


Live Another Day

by snarechan



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-05
Updated: 2006-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Vin, the jittery techno-geek with a fear of his own shadow, came to be a part of the Underground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live Another Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [demishock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demishock/gifts).



> This was a birthday gift for Cassandra Cassidy, who wanted to see how I theorized Vin getting involved with the Underground, which of course means there was going to be some Torn thrown in there. I hope you all enjoy it as well.

It was a sad, sad day to be alive. Well, technically, when you're the sole person running the Eco Grids – and with that position comes responsibility not only for yourself, but for everyone _else's_ lives in Haven City, mind – it's never really a good day to be alive. Not that he was complaining of course, because he was more afraid of death than life, but some days made even Vin wonder what's the point.

Some would go crazy over being stuck in the same room day after day, month after month, year after year, with no one to talk to but through a radio. In his case, however, it was the complete opposite. It's a crazy place out there, with its shootouts and drive-bys and pain. Someone like him is as good as already dead the minute they step foot on the streets, his worry levels sure to reach a new high if he were stuck out there.

Again.

He hadn't been born in here or anything like that, though sometimes it sure seemed like it. At times he couldn't recall the smell of open air or the feel of the sun. But he had been out there once, roaming the walkways and working the odd jobs after college. He'd been one of the few to actually attend one until most of them were shut down or replaced with military schools. What he did recall from those days made little wonder why he didn't recall it much – most of it having been repressed due to the military dominance and lack of anything nice.

There was no good to be found outside these wired walls. No family to return to, no friends to hang out with, and certainly no better place to be in times like this. He'd never been a drinking man – anaphylaxis to alcohol, you see – or a partier (surprise, surprise, right?), so as far as he was concerned, there was no risk worthy of drawing him out of this place.

Except right now. Right now he wouldn't mind getting away, so far away where no wires, switches, buttons, or mechanical hums could be found. Some place where no Metal Heads, KGs, or people in general would be thriving. But there is no such place, even in dreams or more commonly, nightmares. Even in death, peace and safety aren't absolute.

He'd learned that the hard way when the first walls built around this city failed a year-or-so ago. At the time, Vin hadn't been in charge of the Eco Grids, hadn't been till just recently, because the person he replaced was the one who failed them all. No details had been released, but he knew – oh, how he knew – the Baron had had the man killed for his miscalculations. That's how this position even came to be open.

The technician hadn't even been near the breach or any of the fighting, but the gunshots and violence could be heard for miles. The Baron's promises of a safe place, a _haven_ , were broken beyond repair. More than the city had been damaged, because whatever faith anyone had in his or her leader had been crushed that day. Vin was suspicious of everyone by nature, but at the time, even he would have had to admit he'd trusted the Baron in keeping to his word.

Now it's his job to do the Baron's bidding.

To a point he doesn't really mind. As stated before, he isn't out _there_ anymore, and so long as he does his job, he'll always be able to afford his anti-anxiety medication. It's really good stuff, actually, considering the Baron's men prescribed it to him and all. Gets him to stop shaking for five minutes straight.

But anyway, working for the Baron. Despite the whole one-false-move business (the one on his part sure to get him blown up, chopped up, hanged, electrocuted, or, as he often imagines, forced to watch his beautiful machines be turned into scrap metal) there are worse things that could be done. He likes working on the grids, ensuring that he stays here while the Metal Heads stay out there, and he'd rather be alive to do so for several more years, thank you.

It's a good distraction from most of his other depressing thoughts, at any rate.

The sound of a door opening in the background interrupted the low thrum of machinery at work. Recalling the Baron's love for surprise inspections (or, more accurately, his orders for that scary Commander Erol to check up on him), his mind went into hyper-drive and began devising every possible excuse for every possible error that might be found. _Why did it have to be today of all days?_

"He-hello!" he called out, driving the moving platform he was on to the ground as fast as he could, not wanting to make the Baron wait if it…were…not here. A swift inspection of the place revealed no KG personal or other authority figures standing around, nor a living being at all. Just thin air.

Scratching his head warily, he wondered if he'd forgotten to take something again or skipped one lunch too many when something pointy and very much resembling the barrel of a gun was aimed at his back. Releasing a rather shrill scream in surprise, he immediately raised up his hands, knees buckling and elbows wobbling.

"I'm innocent! I never saw anything! All I own is a pair of neon boxers and a toothpick! Take my passport! DON'T KILL ME!"

"Just be quiet and turn off the cameras, Vin."

"C-commander Torn!" he squawked, "Well, a-actually it's ex-Commander now, isn't it? I mean you're the first guy to- Oh, right, sorry. Cameras."

Now that he knew who it was, he was released to handle the equipment. His fingers glided and flew across the nearest keyboard, entering the temporary shutdown sequence on the monitoring system. Once accomplished, he turned back again, managing to get a good look at the guy for the first time since…since he'd left. He caught the man flipping his blade around – the hilt actually having been holding him up, not some gun – and sheathing it.

Torn didn't look too good. He was still tall, intimidating, and all by first glance still his ordinary, authoritative self, but he'd also lost a lot of weight. Maybe even some muscle mass, if the bagginess of his shirtsleeves and pant legs was any indication. Then again, perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised. Men on the run from the Krimzon Guard (especially if said men were once a part of the KG) had too much worrying to have time to eat, sleep, or relax. To a point, he could sympathize. It didn't look like a good day to be alive for Torn, either.

"What are you doing here? Not that I don't mind your c-company, of course, but it's really _dangerous_ for you to be right here under the Baron's nose like this! Any minute now, one of _them_ could come walking in and see us both!"

"Vin, you're forgetting to breathe again."

The technician purposefully drew in a couple deep gasps of air. While he did that, Torn continued when the other had calmed down enough to listen, or as much as someone like Vin could calm down. He was still breathing, at least.

"This has got to stop."

"I'm sorry, okay? My doctor has got me on this new diet and-"

"Not that, _this_!" he finally snapped, motioning with his fingers splayed towards the entire expanse of the large control room and beyond, "I've had a lot of time to think, Vin, _more_ than enough time to think. This city can't handle much more of someone like the Baron ruling it, and I think I know just how to fix this."

"Ya know, it's funny, I would have thought that I'd be the _first one to go crazy!_ "

"I've managed to keep in contact with his daughter and some of my old comrades, and I've found others who are willing to fight for the cause. We _can_ do this," Torn continued as if he'd never heard Vin speak.

"Oh, oh that's just great! Ashelin is in on this, too? What is it, some adolescent retaliation phase for attention? I'd have thought she'd grown out of that by this point! For that matter, how do you know you have enough men to take on the Baron's entire army? His supplies are endless, his soldiers _numerous_ ; the only competition he's ever had is the Metal Heads, and for now they're at a standstill there!"

"I've fought for them, remember? Numbers have never made the man, Vin. I know their tricks and methods of doing things, and I'll have insiders and enough backups to keep this thing going. Our numbers will grow with time…and that's where you come in."

Whatever else Vin had on his mind that he thought was worth pointing out died on his lips the minute he caught on to exactly where all of this was going, his hands frantically waving back and forth in front of him as if warding off some demon. Then again, for all he knew, some monster might very well have possessed Torn.

"No way, just nooooooo way! Absolutely not! Never, nada, negatory, keep me out of this! It's your death wish, not mine!"

One minute he was talking to Torn, and in the next he was talking _up_ to Torn. His movements had been so fast that, once again, the rest of what he was going to say was cut short as he was forced to gaze upwards at the far taller, far more intimidating, and far more unhappy guest of his. In fact, Vin theorized that what he was experiencing now was what it must feel like while being looked down upon by some Metal Head that was ready to pounce him for dessert. Oh, how he'd gone and said the wrong thing this time! He's done for, finished, eek!

"How can you possibly say that after everything he's done! The Baron has killed people far lesser than either of us and left hundreds more to die! If he's not the killer in a murder then he's helping someone else along with one!

"I-I-I-!"

As if someone had suddenly turned the knob from 'enraged' to 'not-so-enraged' on Torn's anger meter, he backed off, closing his eyes and counting to ten…twenty for good measure, under his breath before addressing Vin again.

"I'm not asking you for much, Vin. You can stay in this hole for as long as you like – that's why you're so beneficial to us in the first place. You can get us access to places and information that no one else can from this position. It's vital that you help us, _if_ you help us…"

"The risks are so high…" Vin tried weakly one last time, looking at the brunet pleadingly.

He had to understand how impossible and daunting this must feel. The words 'revolution' and 'rebellion' could only be found in old textbooks (all of them burned) involving failed attempts against powerful leaders and the Baron's ways that had caused them. Now such ideals were beaten out of the public, the generations afterwards and to come brainwashed into believing that such things are foolish and 99-percent deadly.

"I know they are, and that's just it, isn't it?" Torn murmured, catching his gaze head on, "I'm not saying this victory will come soon or without loss. Casualties are sure to be heavy, but all that hardship has to pay off eventually. It won't be in vain, _I_ won't let it be in vain."

"Y-you sure know how to inspire a guy, ya know that?" Vin said dryly, though the quiver in his voice gave away his troubled thoughts and forced sarcasm. What Torn had just said confirmed his suspicions on the matter, not that he'd had any doubt about all the dangers involved. His mind was a death calculating machine, the years of living in this city only enhancing his cynicism.

…

And that was no way to grow up living. Living in fear – in fear of being used, in fear of being abused, or drafted, or taken away for god-knows-what in the basements of the Baron's labs, or killed. What kind of world like this allowed its children to be raised around gunfire and a dictator? Where women are tools for the system or just soldier-producing machines? A place where boys are practically born men, trained as tools to fight and induce all that fear that circulates the streets?

"A world in need of change," Torn spoke gruffly, as if reading his very thoughts.

Numbly, Vin gave a nod, unable to avoid it anymore. That single gesture was probably the most daring thing he'd ever done, and ever would do, in his mind.

"Okay…just…o-okay. I'll see what I can do, but…but no promises!"

Thankfully for him, Torn didn't push it any further, giving him a nod before letting himself out. Left alone in the empty space of the control room, Vin let out a huge puff of air, his body nearly deflating and sinking into the metal flooring in the process.

Looks like he's going to be alive for another day.

-Fin-


End file.
